


Ghosts in the Darkness (Kozik x OC/Reader)

by Sk8er_Chica



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17487155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sk8er_Chica/pseuds/Sk8er_Chica
Summary: Kozik's old lady tries to help him through a particularly rough night.





	Ghosts in the Darkness (Kozik x OC/Reader)

You had been sleeping soundly when something tapped the back of your knee. This was quickly followed by a sharper poke to the ribs.

"Ow!" you grunted into your pillow.

The only reply was a stream of incoherent mutterings. You rolled over. Your old man was tossing violently in his sleep; you barely managed to dodge an errant elbow before it collided with your temple. Even half-awake, you recognized what was happening. Kozik had warned you about his occasional Gulf War nightmares when the two of you had first become a couple. They were unpredictable in their timing, but always intense. It had scared the hell out of you the first time he'd had one in front of you; Kozik had been embarrassed, feeling the dreams were a sign of weakness, and afraid they might cause him to hurt you accidentally or start using drugs again.

Beside you, Kozik was saying, "No...no...shit...Jesus Christ, no." He curled in on himself before twisting around to lie on his back. You caught a few other words that sounded like names or maybe places. Without warning, Kozik let out a strangled scream that made your blood run cold. He sat up, eyes wildly darting around the darkened room. His chest was heaving as he clutched the blankets so hard his knuckles went white.

Kozik jumped out of bed, nearly tripping himself because the sheets were tangled around his legs. The pain barely registered when he crashed to the bathroom tile on his knees. He started retching. Dinner had been so long ago there wasn't much left in his stomach to throw up, which was almost worse.

You winced slightly at the noises coming from the bathroom. As far as you knew, the nightmares hadn't made him physically sick before. You sat up in bed, crossing your legs under you. Giving Kozik some privacy to get over the initial aftershock was how you normally handled these nightmares; he'd talk pretty freely about things he'd gone through during the war once the fight-or-flight eased off.

Flushing, Kozik stood to rinse his mouth. He gripped onto the sink, hating how pathetic he looked in the bathroom mirror. His face was pale, unmistakable tear streaks mingling with the sweat. After brushing his teeth for several minutes, he forced himself to drink some water. Once Kozik was relatively sure it would stay down, he left the bathroom.

Kozik returned to your room. You watched him pace in front of your bed like a caged tiger, sure he'd be tasting blood if he kept gnawing on his bottom lip like that. He paused occasionally to wipe his face with the bottom of his sleeveless REAPER CREW T-shirt, dripping sweat even though he was only wearing that and a pair of boxers. He noticed you had propped yourself against the headboard.

"Oh God, I didn't mean to wake you up," he said, looking guilty.

Kozik rummaged through the pile of clothes on his side of the bed, cursing softly in the dark. Nothing he had touched so far felt like basketball shorts or a pair of sweatpants. 

"I'm gonna go for a run," he told you, his breathing still ragged. "You don't need to wait for me."

You checked the alarm clock. "Herman, it's 3:00 in the morning." (Not to mention he didn't look too steady on his feet).

"Just go back to sleep, okay, Y/N?" Kozik had finally found sweatpants and was putting them on. "I'll be back before breakfast."

"Herman, do you mind if I try something first?" you asked, rubbing your favorite scented lotion into your hands. "To help you feel better?"

"Look, Y/N, I really don't wanna fool around right now," he replied in clipped tones.

"Well, neither do I," you shrugged. "But if you really don't want my help, I'll leave you alone."

Kozik hovered next to the bed, wondering what you had in mind. You patted the mattress and he sat down. You scooted closer to him. With one hand, you brushed his hair from his damp forehead; the other hand stroked his torso.

"I told ya I don't wanna fool around!" Kozik snapped when your hand reached the level of his belly button.

"Do you want me to stop?" you asked.

"I don't get what the hell yer tryin' to do," he said.

"You make me feel so safe," you started. "I'm just trying to help you relax, feel safe. That nightmare was worse than normal, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Kozik ran his tongue over his suddenly dry lips.

"We can talk about it or not talk about it," you went on. "Whatever you need. It's gonna be okay, Herman."

You gently placed one of his hands on your chest. He felt the worn cloth of one of his own T-shirts beneath his palm; you liked to wear them as nightgowns. Your heartbeat was steady. You rubbed his hair.

"Breathe with me. Nice and slow," you encouraged.

Kozik swung his legs onto the bed, not breaking contact with you. You kept your hands working in tandem, one tangled in his hair and the other brushing the muscles of his chest and stomach. Kozik closed his eyes and had an instant flash of wounded Marines, their blood soaking into the sand. His eyes flew open again. Scared, he pulled your body flush with his. You felt him shaking; his breathing was erratic, borderline hyperventilating. A tear ran down his cheek.

"You're safe with me, Herman," you reassured him. "I'm right here. Just focus on me. Try to slow down your breathing a little."

"I can't," Kozik panted.

You took a long breath in through your nose until your stomach puffed out a little, then let the air back out through your nose. "You feel that?" you asked.

"Yeah."

"Wait until I breathe, okay?"

You coached him through a few breaths, petting his thick blond hair and tracing the dragon tattoo on his bicep. Kozik's heart rate started to return to normal. The warm, comforting pressure of your weight was a firm reminder that he was nowhere near the Middle East.

"There you go, Hermie," you soothed, barely holding back a yawn. "Just relax."

Kozik felt like he was about to melt into the mattress. He didn't want you to wake up sore from falling asleep while straddling him, so he eased himself around until you were both on your sides. You tucked your head in the hollow of his shoulder, your breasts pressed against his firm chest. 

"I love you, Y/N," Kozik murmured, kissing your forehead.

He closed his eyes and wrapped one of his strong arms around you. Kozik's last conscious thought was that he'd take half a day off from the garage and spend the morning worshipping your body to show his gratitude for the way you'd calmed his spirit.


End file.
